Hell is Empty
by chrishish
Summary: A bomb at Verdant devastates Team Arrow. While Felicity and Diggle struggle to pick up the pieces, Oliver struggles to stay alive. Warnings for torture, blood and angst.
1. Hell is Empty

**A/N: I'm a sucker for the tough guy getting boo-boos apparently, and I'm only partially sorry. This is my first attempt at writing some real whump, so feedback is appreciated.**

**Story title from The Tempest by William Shakespeare: _"Hell is empty. And all the devils are here."_**

**Just a warning that it is going to get painful and bloody up in here. Dark and bloody. Slade is a very angry man. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own. But what I wouldn't give to own a bit of Stephen Amell amirite?**

* * *

"Yes, Oliver," Felicity said with mock patience as she answered the phone. "I'm walking in to the club as we speak. And you better be down there and not demanding I'm here already when you're actually just getting out of bed and trying to make me feel bad."

She heard Oliver's warm laughter on the other side of the line. "I promise I'm downstairs. See you in a bit."

Pocketing her phone, she smiled and pulled open the side door to Verdant, but as she stepped over the threshold, the early Sunday morning burst into red and orange and heat and _noise_ and _pain_. She instinctively threw her hands up to protect herself as she was thrown back. Something struck her from behind, and her world fell to darkness.

* * *

Felicity opened her eyes slowly and immediately regretted it. Surrounded by blinking machines and a heavy sterile smell, she felt waves of pain radiating from her head down to her toes. She blinked and saw the blurry outline of John Diggle reaching out and handing her her glasses.

"Good to see you awake, Felicity."

"Thanks," she said as she put them on and everything came back into focus.

"What happened?"

She tried to sit up, but he gently pushed her back down.

"Be careful. You got knocked around pretty hard. You've been out for a couple of hours, and you have a minor burns and a concussion."

"I was at Verdant," she said, wracking her brain to remember. "Oliver called me in to track a money transfer. There was-"

John's expression grew grim, his mouth a tight line. "There was a bomb." He seemed to be deliberating over every word. "The entire foundry is destroyed."

"Oliver?"

He shook his head. She saw his fists clench on the bed as he leaned against it heavily. "He was inside."

"But he's Oliver. He probably got out and is arrow-ing whoever did this."

He wouldn't meet her gaze.

"He got out," she pleaded. "Please tell me he got out."

"They found a body."

Suddenly, she felt very empty inside.

"No. That can't be right. Maybe it was someone else."

For a moment, she felt terrible, wishing for someone else's death, but the thought that Oliver could be dead was heavy in her chest, suffocating her.

"The club was closed. Nobody was supposed to be working at Verdant at the time. They're still waiting on the reports and the autopsy, but it doesn't look good. There wasn't much left standing."

"Who could have done this?" she asked, her voice high and frantic. "How did a bomb get inside the club?"

It felt like her lungs were compressing. Her throat was swelling shut. Lights were appearing before her eyes, and the room swayed around her.

"Felicity." John grasped her shoulders firmly. "Felicity, breathe with me."

He took deep calming breaths, and she did her best to follow suit.

"We'll get through this together. We'll find out who did this."

She felt tears spilling over against her will. "He can't be dead, John. He can't."

* * *

"Good to see you awake, old friend."

Oliver hissed as light pierced the room. Held up by his wrists from chains hanging from the ceiling, he scrambled to find his footing as he returned to consciousness. Manacles around his ankles clinked together, secured tightly to the floor. Memories assaulted him as he glared at the man standing in front of him.

"Slade."

The Australian mercenary smiled darkly, sitting comfortably in an armchair directly across from him, the only furniture on the large, cavernous room.

"What did you do? The club—"

"It would be a tragedy if your pretty hacker was inside the club when my bomb exploded, wouldn't it?"

Oliver felt the bottom of his stomach drop out from under him. His fists clench tightly as he struggled against his bindings.

"I'll kill you," he said, his voice low and full of venom. "If you hurt her—"

"Don't worry your pretty little head. She's safe for now."

"Leave her out of this, Slade. Your fight is with me."

"And what will you do to stop me? You are at my mercy, and your friends think you're dead."

He paused a moment to let his words sink in. Oliver reeled at the thought that once again, his family thought him dead.

Slade stood and leisurely walked toward Oliver. When he was in range, Oliver tried to head butt his former friend. Slade easily intercepted his attack, holding him off with one hand. With his other hand, he grabbed ahold of Oliver's trapped right hand and, with superhuman strength, crushed Oliver's index finger.

Through Oliver's grunt of pain, he did the same to his other fingers and said, "It's just you and me here, old friend."

* * *

A/N2: Thanks for reading! Reviews and feedback are always appreciated.


	2. Hope is the Worst of Evils

**A/N: Thank you for the follows, faves and kind reviews! I've written about 5 chapters so far, so I'll keep posting every couple days as I make progress.**

* * *

_"Hope is the worst of evils, for it prolongs the torment of man."  
__- Friedrich Nietzsche_

When Felicity was released from the hospital the next morning, John insisted on taking her to his apartment.

"It's safer," he said.

Safer from what, she didn't know. Without the Arrow around, why would anyone have any reason to target her?

Nonetheless, she was grateful that she didn't have to go to her empty apartment with left with nothing but her thoughts. Instead, she found herself awake, staring out the window of John's apartment.

With her knees tucked under her chin, she thought about Oliver. Had Thea and Moira been informed that he wouldn't be coming home? Would they find out about the hideout stowed underneath the club?

Her thoughts were interrupted by John pulling up a chair next to her.

"What would you be doing," she asked quietly, "if Oliver had never pulled you into his crusade?"

"I'd probably be the black driver for an idiotic billionaire. Same as usual."

"I'd probably be just another nameless, insignificant IT girl."

"You could never be insignificant, Felicity Smoak."

She smiled weakly at him, her eyes swimming with tears. The look of pain in his eyes mirrored her own. "Would it have been better if we never known him? Would it hurt less?"

"Would it hurt less? Definitely. But with Oliver, we made a difference. We had a family, and we made our home a better place. Would it be better if we led boring lives, without knowing what a difference we could make?"

"No, I don't think so," she finishes for him, pulling her knees tighter to her chest. "I set an alert. We'll know when the police complete their report."

John nodded.

"Do you think he's really dead? I mean, he must be if he's not here. But it's not the first time that he's disappeared."

"I don't know," John said honestly, "but as soon as you're back to full health, we're going to find the bastard who did this, and we'll get all of the answers we need."

* * *

She got pinged a few hours later on her phone. Pulling her laptop toward her, she called loudly for John.

"It's results of the police autopsy."

Reading the report, she choked back a sob, "They think it's him." She forces herself to read on. "Caucasian, male, late 20s. Dental records are…a match for Oliver. Cause of death was smoke inhalation."

She imagined Oliver trapped alone in the basement, fighting to escape while his oxygen supply burned away. She saw him lying on a slab in the morgue, being dissected, his body charred beyond recognition.

An ugly sound ripped from her chest as she turned and smothered her face in John's shoulder. She felt his shoulders shudder in suppressed emotion, but she couldn't find any words of comfort.

"It's him, isn't it?"

Both John and Felicity whipped around to face the intruder. Sara stared back with an unreadable expression.

"I saw the police at the Foundry. Do they have any of the results from the bomb yet?"

Felicity sat up and swiped at her eyes. "Not yet."

Sara turned away quickly. "Laurel deserves to know. I'm going to my family—and to the Queens. Let me know when you find out."

And as quickly as she had come, she was gone.

"You should get some sleep," John said after a long pause. He stood abruptly. "We'll need to be ready when the bomb reports come in."

He also left the room. There was silence. Felicity was paralyzed but a loud crash and a bang jolted her back into motion. She ran out toward the noise and saw John's retreating form before he slammed the door to his room shut. She looked down to see a shattered bookcase and a fist-shaped hole in the wall.

* * *

It was not the first time that Oliver had been held in this position. It also wasn't the first time that everyone thought him dead. But Slade was more thorough than his past captors, and Oliver was hard-pressed to find a way to get loose.

The manacles around his wrists and ankles were extremely tight, and even if he could somehow get his hands free, he couldn't very well break his ankles to free his legs from the chains secured to the concrete floor. His eyes followed the chain holding his wrists, extending to the high vaulted ceiling, and he was grateful for the fact that there was enough slack in the chains to stand.

Slade had left him alone after a few minutes of taunting, but Oliver wasn't sure how long he had.

His broken right hand throbbed in pain. Even if he managed to escape, he came to the grim realization that it would be some time before he'd be able to handle a bow again, if ever.

Pulling himself from his dark thoughts, he took in his surroundings carefully, trying to find something to use to his advantage. A light shone directly above him, giving him a 10-foot range of visibility around him. He could see vague silhouettes of furnishing through the darkness, but nothing that would be useful to him.

Left to his thoughts, he worried for his family. He hated the thought of Thea losing him again. He was grateful, at the very least, that Sara and Laurel had each other.

He hoped that Felicity and Digg would investigate, that they wouldn't take the reports of his death at face value. But given his past and history of bad luck, he hardly allowed himself to hope anymore.

"I had originally planned to make you choose."

Oliver turned to see Slade emerge from the darkness, holding a long device in his hands.

"I was going to make you choose between the Laurel sisters. Like when you left Shado to die, but that seems like an easy way out for you, doesn't it? It doesn't affect you the way it affects the rest of us. After you killed Shado, how long did you wait until you slept with Sara?"

The crackle of electricity was Oliver's only warning before his world burst into pain.

"DID YOU CARE ABOUT HER AT ALL? DID YOU EVEN CARE WHEN SHE DIED?" Slade yelled, pressing the his voice echoing off of the concrete walls over the sound of Oliver's cries of pain.

Slade pulled away the electric prod, his expression composed. Oliver shuddered as his automatic functions struggled to become automatic again.

"I cared for her," he said, hating how his voice shook so violently. "I didn't choose for her to die! Ivo chose for me."

"You didn't love her enough. I would have chosen her. I would have protected her. And now, I want you to suffer the way I have for the past five years."

Once again, the room was filled with the sound of Oliver's screams.

* * *

**A/N2: Thanks for reading! Reviews and feedback are much appreciated.**


	3. Neither Angel Nor Brute

_Man is neither angel nor brute, and the misfortune is that he who would act the angel acts the brute."  
- _Pascal

Tentatively, Felicity knocked on the front door to the Queen Mansion, feeling John's comforting presence behind her. She shifted foot to foot, wondering if this was a bad idea.

Roy answered the door. His eyes were red-rimmed. "Felicity?"

"So… you heard?"

"The police called a few hours ago. I've been here for Thea, but…"

As his voice trailed off, Felicity smiled sadly at him. "Me, too. It's been hard. I just wanted to check on things…I brought cupcakes. I was going to bring dinner, but I realized that the Queens have their own cook, whose food is probably way better than anything I could ever…I comfort bake."

She held up the tray of pastries like a sacrificial offering. Roy smiled slightly at her and gestured them inside.

Moira and Thea were huddled together in the sitting room, both looking up when Felicity and John entered.

"Mr. Diggle, Ms. Smoak," Moira said, rising from the couch and pulling them into a gentle embrace. Her usually carefully coifed hair was limp and tired. She looked much older than Felicity had ever seen her look.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," John said, his voice gentle.

Moira pulled Felicity aside.

"Ms. Smoak, I know we have had our differences in the past, but I know that you meant a great deal to my son." She gently cupped her face between her hands. "Thank you for looking out for him, when I failed him."

Felicity smiled sadly. "He loved you, Mrs. Queen. He was hurt and angry, but he never stopped loving you."

Moira smiled back, her eyes watering. "Come sit. Would you like tea?"

"That would be lovely."

John sat beside Felicity, his large hand covering hers.

"How are you doing, Thea?" Felicity asked gently

"You'd think having lost him before, we'd be used to it by now," the young girl said angrily. "I don't even understand. Why was he at the club? No one was supposed to be there."

Felicity hated herself for knowing. She wished she could tell them the truth. She wished they could know what a hero he was. They would never know all that he had sacrificed for them over the past two years. They would never know all of the good he was doing for the city.

John seemed to sense her distress, squeezing her hand. "We'll never know how his mind worked, will we?"

Thea huffed a reluctant sigh. "I guess not."

They sat in contemplative silence, before Felicity's phone buzzed.

"I'm sorry," she said, as everyone's attention turned to her. Her screen let her know that the police had uploaded evidence from the bomb to their servers. "I'm sorry. I have to go. Please let me know if there's anything I can do for you."

She stood abruptly and made her way outside. John and Roy followed.

"Roy?" Thea seemed hurt that he was leaving.

"Sorry, I'll be back. I promise." He gave her a kiss, and the three left quickly, reluctantly leaving the confused Queens behind.

As they slid into John's car, Felicity filled them in. "The police have collected the bomb particles. I need to go to the Foundry—" She froze, noticing how John's fingers grip tightened on the steering wheel. "I mean, we'll go back to your apartment. I have my computers there, too. Everything was backed up. It's…the same thing really."

She heaved a sigh, feeling terribly helpless. She saw Roy, staring broodily out the window. Instead of digging herself deeper into a hole of despair, she began to fiddle on her phone, reading the police file.

Everything inside the foundry had been destroyed. She had worried about the police finding her computer and Oliver's equipment, but they had been obliterated beyond recognition. The bomb parts were common enough, but they were very powerful together. Felicity was sure that she would be able to track down at least some of the parts to a buyer.

By the time they pulled up to John's apartment, Felicity was determined. If she couldn't save her friend, she sure as hell would make sure that his murderer would pay.

John and Roy, both full of anger and grief, began to spar in the living room while she worked. She hardly noticed, save for the occasional sounds of crashing and shattering in the background.

On her laptop, she ran a search on the bomb parts. At the same time, she also began research on the old building they had been in, determined to discover how the intruder could have gotten in.

"Tunnels," she muttered to herself. "I can't believe we never noticed these before."

John was at her side immediately, and she hurriedly explained. "There are tunnels into the basement…old, old tunnels that aren't on any blueprints from the past century. Maybe from the Underground Railroad or Prohibition, I don't know. But they're there, and they're well hidden."

"Is that how the bomber got in?"

"Without a doubt, but what I don't understand is how they found it."

Sara had come in when Felicity had been distracted by her computers. "Same way you did. They must have known what they were looking for."

Another ding distracted her. "I've also been following the payments for the bomb parts. Whoever did this was smart. They paid with cash and bought from all different places around town. But there were some parts that came from Stagg Industries and are only sold through certain channels. I cross-referenced the facial recognition from the past couple weeks between those stores, and the only person who visited all of these stores and made purchases is this guy."

She pulled up the picture in question and was surprised when Sara physically recoiled.

"You know him?"

"His name is Slade. And he's supposed to be dead. Oliver killed him when we were on the Lian Yu."

"Are you sure about that?" Roy asked. "He doesn't seem…all that dead."

"It's possible that he didn't stay dead," Sara said. Felicity didn't like the fear in her voice. "He had Mirukuru in his system. He had already been revived once before."

For every discovery Felicity made, it seemed like they would be taking another step back.

* * *

It was cold and wet. He was suffocating. He was drowning. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. His lungs burned, and he wanted to be dead. He could hear his own cries and the clanging of chains as he struggled.

"Your family is mourning you," Slade said, as the water stopped pouring and the lackey released the cloth from over Oliver's nose and mouth. "Only two years after your miraculous return, and once again, you leave them with nothing but pain and destruction."

Oliver coughed up water, gasping for precious air.

"Shado wouldn't want this," he said, his voice rough. "She knew you were a good man."

"She would _want_ to be alive," Slade snarled. "She would revenge against the ones who killed her."

Oliver knew that Slade was beyond reason. He had dealt with Slade's rage, heightened by the Mirakuru, on the island, and had barely survived the first time. This time, Slade had had years to plot his next move and simmer in his anger. He had an army of minions, and he had countless resources that he hadn't had on the island.

"Your memory of her is ruined by the Mirukuru. You have to know the truth. Deep down, you know she would never support this vendetta."

Slade nodded toward his underling, and Oliver's pleas were cut off by the cloth smothering him again and water pouring over him again.

Oliver prayed against all hope to pass out. He wanted this to end. As he struggled against the chains, struggled to throw off the hands suffocating him, struggled to breathe, he made a vow to himself. He prayed he had the opportunity to set things right with all of the people he had hurt, Felicity, his mother, Laurel.

He prayed that he would get out of this alive.


	4. We Make This World our Hell

"_We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell."_  
- Oscar Wilde

"Slade blames Oliver for Shado's death," Sara explained, staring intently at the footage Felicity had compiled. "It wasn't Oliver's fault. He was forced to choose. He was forced between me and her…He wouldn't, and then Shado died. Slade died trying to kill Oliver."

"How did he die?" John asked, his brow furrowed.

"There was a ship, The Amazo. We saw it as our way off the island. We tried to escape, but Slade found out about Oliver's choice and lost it. We barely got him out of there alive. We couldn't beat Slade, so we blew up the ship."

"Blew it up?" Felicity repeated. "I mean, maybe I've watched too many episodes of Criminal Minds, but doesn't that seem like the way to get revenge? Blow Oliver up for trying to blow him up?"

Sara ran her hand through her hair, looking frustrated. "But this isn't like him. He was _so_ angry. The Mirukuru made him insane with anger, and he's had years to plan his revenge."

"So what are you thinking? That _killing him_ wasn't enough?" Felicity was confused and annoyed and sad. Why couldn't things just make sense?

"Is there any way that Slade could have faked Oliver's death?" John asked quietly.

"The tunnels!" Felicity shouted. Everyone turned sharply to look at her. She took a deep breath and said in a rush, "I mentioned the tunnels right? The tunnels under the club. There's half a dozen of them. I thought that would be how he snuck in to plant a bomb, but what if that's how he took Oliver out?"

John's brow was furrowed. "If that's the case, then we have to find Oliver before Slade gets a chance to finish the job."

* * *

Felicity wanted to cry. The surveillance cameras had been hacked, and try as she might, she couldn't find out how they could possibly have snuck out Oliver, let alone how they could have faked his death.

"Felicity, you should sleep," John said gently, startling her out of her frenzy.

"I can't sleep," she muttered, not looking up. "I have to do this. I have to find Oliver."

"You can't keep going like this. You're wearing yourself thin."

"Is Oliver sleeping?" she snapped, more angrily than she meant to. "I can't sleep knowing that Oliver could be alive and that I've failed him."

John looked sympathetic. "You haven't failed him."

"I spent two days following pointless leads. I wasted _two days_ thinking he was dead when I could have found him by now. I could have saved him from whatever the hell Slade is putting him through."

"We don't know that he's alive." Felicity looked up from her computer to shoot him a scathing look. "I know we want him to be. It's unbearable to think otherwise, but the police report made a match. Dental records are hard to fake."

She stopped typing suddenly. "Police reports…The results could be hard to copy, but what if they weren't faked? What if the original records were faked so that the test results were sure to match?"

She didn't hear John's response as she resumed typing with a renewed fervor. Several moments later, she shouted. "Got it!"

"The police system was hacked. Someone replaced Oliver's dental records and x-rays with those for whoever died in the fire…"

"So in the time between your phone call and the explosion, Slade overpowers Oliver and drags him out through the tunnels."

"And leaves one of his minions in Oliver's place to die?"

"That's cold…But I feel a little less awful about another person dying instead of Oliver. I mean, not that it's good that someone died, but as long as that someone is not Oliver and he's one of the bad guys."

John smiled. "Can you find out who hacked the system?"

"Not externally, there are just too many stations to track individually from here. I'm going to need to hack in to the server on-site."

* * *

Oliver had been tortured before. But before, there had been questions. He could resist and know that, in spite of it all, he was fighting back with his silence. But this was different. There were no questions. Just unending fear and pain, and there was no escape, no foreseeable end.

There was no window in this prison. No way to tell how much time had passed since he had been taken and in between each session.

He had been electrocuted countless times. His ribs were undoubtedly broken from the beatings he had received. Blood dripped down his arms from his chafed wrists. He was lightheaded from exhaustion and hunger.

"Oliver, have you thought about what you've done?" Slade said, sitting in the leather armchair again while Oliver hung in front of him.

"Go to hell."

"Ah, but I'm already there, Oliver. Aren't you as well? Lian Yu was purgatory, wasn't it? And now, living with the knowledge that you killed Shado, donning her hood to avenge her death, is this not hell?"

Oliver glared back. "Is this your new form of torture today? Talking me to death?"

"Ah, you've still got your spirit, don't you, Oliver? That fight that kept you alive on the island."

"It takes more than a little bit of blood to take me down."

"I suppose it would." Slade's smile widened. "Tell me, Oliver. How does it feel to bring death to everyone around you? I'm afraid for all of my best efforts to the contrary, I had to end the life of your dear assistant."

"You're lying," Oliver snarled.

With an ugly chuckle, Slade held up a tablet and pressed play. It was a video of a surveillance camera in front of the precinct. He saw the blurry but distinguishable figure of Felicity leave the building. She was wearing a dark dress, and her hair was up in a tight ponytail.

He watched the cop behind her pull out a gun. Helpless, Oliver watched as she crumpled to the ground. Though he couldn't make out details, he can't help but notice the dark circle of blood pool next to her.

"No," he whispered in horror. "No."

He shut his eyes, but all he could see was her body on the ground. In his mind, he was the one standing over her with a gun. "NO," he yelled, thrashing against the chains. "I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill you."

"Killing me would not save your precious Felicity."

And just like that, his anger was replaced with defeat. He slumped in the chains, his legs gave out. Hanging from his wrists, ignoring the pain, he felt gut-wrenching sobs rip from his throat.

* * *

She was walking from the police station, where she had spoken with Quentin Lance when there was a loud crash. She turned in time to see an officer pull a gun in her direction before she stumbled back. She heard the bang and felt the sharp pain in her stomach and collapsed.

It was not like in the movies or the books she had read. She didn't go numb, things didn't blur or slow down. Instead it was the opposite. She saw everything in sharp detail. People were rushing around her. Someone tacked the guy with the gun, and Lance ran toward her. And she lay there and loudly shouted, "OW."

But she looked down, and it was just a graze on her side. Sitting up may have been out of the question for the next few minutes, but she was more determined than ever to bring down this Slade guy and bring Oliver home.


	5. False Words

_"False words are not only evil in themselves, but they infect the soul with evil."_  
- Socrates

He was so tired. Held up by the chains around his wrists, there was no way to find relief. His legs, feet, back and shoulders felt the burden of standing constantly, and when he tried to give in to his exhaustion, his shoulders and broken bones jolted, creating sharp pains to jerk him awake.

How long had he been here? Days? Weeks? Everything had blurred together in the haze of pain and exhaustion, and he couldn't remember what was real or imagined anymore.

Felicity was dead. Even if he somehow managed to escape this hell, what was the point when he'd never hear her laughter or rambles again? How could he look his friends in the eye when it was his fault that she was dead?

He heard the horribly familiar echo of footsteps and shuddered.

"Congratulations, Oliver," Slade said. "Your friend is dead because of you."

Slade smiled and sat down in the leather chair in front of him.

There was a crack, and Oliver cried out in pain. One of Slade's goons brought a whip down across his back. The bite of its tendrils left angry welts across his back.

He tried to think of something else to distract himself, but his mind flashed to Felicity bleeding out on the ground. He thought about Shado's body on the island, Tommy with the remains of CNRI burying him. He tried to force down his tears, but the pain wasn't unwelcome anymore.

His legs gave out from under him. He could see Slade smiling at him as he struggled to fight traction underneath his fatigued legs. Seven, eight, nine. Oliver counted the lashings, dreading each blow as they dragged bloody crisscrosses across his back.

Slade held up a hand, and the attack stopped.

"I hate to punish you this way, old friend, but this is your fault," he said in a low, earnest voice. "You killed Shado. I'm only giving you what you deserve. What she would want."

And through his pain and exhaustion, he started to believe it.

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want to go to a hospital and get some pain medicine?" Sara asked gently, as Felicity winced gingerly.

"Yes, of course I'm sure," she replied, running her hand over her stitches. "The guy who shot me is probably working for Slade, so all I have to do is find out how they're communicating or find the trail that leads back to that evil bastard…Besides, hospital drugs make me funny."

"Why would he shoot you?" Sara seemed concerned. "Wouldn't Slade know it would give you a trail straight to him?"

"Maybe he doesn't know how good I am."

Sara looked doubtful. "Slade does his research. He's smart. Whatever you find may be a trap."

"But we already know that someone hacked the police database from inside the precinct, and the guy who shot me is a cop."

"For all we know, there is more than one dirty cop in SCPD," John said, gently shutting the front door behind him.

"But we got the weak link right? He's the closest thing we have to a lead right now."

"It's a start," John said. "There's something else. I just finished casing the tunnels around Verdant. They're clear, but the closest entrances have traffic cameras and CCTV around the entrances that I know our favorite IT girl can figure out."

"You are a beautiful man, John Diggle."

"Only the best for my girl," he said.

As Sara came over and carefully checked her stitches, she typed away at her computer.

Several minutes later, she "AHA!"-ed. "Found the getaway car."

She pulled up the CCTV footage and pressed play. The grainy image of a van sat alone for several moments before the blurred figures, dragging along another figure, Oliver.

There were nearly 10 different attackers, all wearing orange and black masks. Oliver had a hood over his head, but he was fighting, still awake and kicking.

"He's alive," she breathed. "He's still alive."

She had known that he was alive. She had felt it in her bones, since they had first found the tunnels leading out of Verdant, but the confirmation brought tears to her eyes, and for the first time in nearly a week, they were tears of joy.

* * *

"Why did you kill me, Oliver?"

Shado was staring at him. Her face was pale and gaunt. There was blood dripping from her temple.

He looked around, trying to look anywhere but at her. Suddenly, he was back on the island, surrounded by forest and darkness.

"No," Oliver moaned, shutting his eyes tight. "I tried. I didn't want you to die."

"Why did you kill me?"

When he opened his eyes, Felicity was standing in front of him, a red wound blossoming on her stomach. He felt cold terror pierce his heart. Why was she on this island? She didn't belong here.

"I didn't mean to. I didn't want you in this life."

"Why didn't you choose me?"

He couldn't tell who said it. Their voices were merging into one. There was blood everywhere. He felt it on his skin, and he was drowning again. Drowning in the blood that had been shed in his name and in guilt and in self-loathing

"Please," he begged. "Please stop. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Everyone is in danger with you alive. Who will be next? Thea? Sara? Laurel?" Tommy asked, blood dripping from his mouth and eyes.

"I'm so sorry."

"People around you die," Shado hissed in his ear, "and yet you somehow manage to live."

"I didn't want to hurt anyone. I don't want to…I don't want to live."

He was so tired, and he prayed. He prayed for death. He prayed for the end. He prayed to save the rest of his friends and his family from the danger he caused and the destruction left in his wake.


	6. Darkness Does Not Leave

_"Darkness does not leave us easily as we would hope." _  
- Margaret Stohl

"The officer who shot me is named Keith Casey," Felicity reported, taking a long sip of the coffee on her table. "His bank account is a goldmine of suspicious deposits from offshore accounts."

"Can we arrow him?" Roy asked.

"I wish," she replied. "He's in police custody, but I've tracked the payments to a bank account in the Caymans…Cliché much? Hard to track, but I've been told that I'm the best."

"Can we arrow someone?"

"Twitchy?"

"We're so close. I know you're going to crack this, and we'll find Oliver."

"But what shape will he be in when we find him?"

She took another long drink of coffee, suddenly wishing it were something stronger.

"Have you slept at all?"

"I tried," she said stiffly. "There were nightmares. And screaming. And I'm kind of trying to minimize it."

"You're driving yourself into the ground. I know you want to find him. We all do, but Oliver will kill me when he's back if you kill yourself trying to find him."

She smiled. "Thanks, Roy, but I'm so close now. I just need to know where the guy is getting his money from, and we'll be able to find Slade."

"Any way I can help?"

"Stand there and look pretty."

"I can do that," he said, looking fascinated as she worked.

She had felt invigorated since discovering the confirmation that Oliver was still alive. Dreading the state that they would find him in, she pushed herself harder than she'd ever gone before.

"Payments from those 'anonymous' off-shore accounts are never actually anonymous," she explained. "They still require someone to come in for the big things…Big things like an abandoned warehouses in The Glades."

"Warehouses? Let's go scout them out."

"It smells like a trap."

"But Oliver is in there. Who knows how he's doing? He was alive when Slade bombed Verdant, but he might not be anymore."

"Don't you think I know that?" Felicity snapped. "I'm trying so hard to be positive, but we've wasted almost a week. I can't be responsible for someone else _dying_ because I overlooked something."

Roy placed a hand over hers, stilling her fidgeting hand over her mouse. "It's not your fault. You're doing more than any of us can do to bring Oliver home."

"If we find him and he's dead, it will be all my fault. If he's dead, it means that I didn't find him in time. But if we follow these leads and they turn out to be a trap and someone else dies, that's on me, too."

"No, it's not. We're all grown up. We can take care of ourselves."

"But I can't just point you at a building, say, 'Fly, my pretties, fly,' and hope you don't die."

"How about I ask around? Some of my old friends in The Glades might know what's up."

"Be careful. If you hear anything, don't try to be a hero."

"I pinky promise," he said, smiling and pulling up the hood to his sweatshirt.

* * *

Oliver looked up, as a scuffle broke out somewhere outside his range of vision. His heart dropped out from under him as he saw several men dragging in a figure in a red hoodie.

"Found him sneaking around outside," one of the minions said to another. "Looks like he's up to no good."

"Was there anyone else with him?"

"No, he was alone."

They dragged the hooded figure into the light. Roy looked up at Oliver with a look of alarm before covering his expression with indifference.

Oliver could hardly imagine what shape he was in, but he couldn't dwell on it. Instead, he thought of Thea, and how devastated she will be to lose her boyfriend because of the stupidity of her own brother.

Behind Roy and the assemblage of cronies, Shado stared at him with a look of disgust on her face. _Your fault_, her gaze said.

_My fault_, he thought. _All of it. Always my fault._

"Look, guys, I was just looking for my dealer. He said to meet him out here," Roy said to one of the guys holding him, putting up only a token struggle.

"What should we do to him?"

"The boss is out now, but we'll just hold him here until he gets back."

"I swear this isn't even the worst thing I've seen out here in The Glades. I won't narc you to the cops or anything."

"Let's just kill him and forget about it."

"Wait, I know him." One of the men came in from outside, scrutinizing Roy. "Harper, what are you doing here?"

"One of my guys said I could get a score here," Roy lied.

"Didn't you shack up with Thea Queen?"

Oliver saw the way Roy froze. He knew in that moment that if he had even the slightest chance to fix the wrongs he'd done, now was his chance.

"Aren't you the asshole who robbed my sister and broke her heart?" he rasped with as much energy he could muster.

He watched as a look of surprise flashed on Roy's face before settling into a smug expression.

"Yeah, that was me," the younger man said. "At least, your sister was a good lay."

Oliver put up a weak struggle. _Too far, Harper, _he thought in disgust.

Oliver looked on with bated breath while his captors exchanged looks. Finally, one of the men laughed.

"Good one, Harper," Roy's former friend said, clapping him on his shoulder. The men flanking him released their grip. "I'll vouch for you. Just make sure you stay out of the area for a while. The boss here is definitely a hard ass."

"Hey, Parker," Roy said. His friend turned to him. "Sorry, dude."

Then, he punched him, knocking him out cold.

The men reacted instantly. They surged forward to fight Roy. Oliver was glad to see that his training had stuck as Roy moved quickly, dispatching many of the men.

However, another man pulled out a gun. Rather than pointing it at Roy, he aimed at Oliver. "Move another muscle, and I'll kill Queen."

Roy stopped. The five men still standing rushed at him. Oliver closed his eyes, praying for the man to just pull the trigger.

There was a loud bang, but he didn't feel the pain of a bullet. A body fell to the ground, and the gun pointed at his face clattered to the ground.

"Took you guys long enough to show up," Roy said. Oliver's eyes snapped open to see Sara and Diggle entering the warehouse, guns drawn.

No Felicity with them. Felicity was dead.

"Good to see you alive," Diggle said, looking at Oliver with sad eyes once the extra minions were taken out.

"It seems," he said with a groan, "that reports of my death were greatly exaggerated."

"Those reports don't seem too exaggerated by the looks of you," Diggle snarked back, rushing forward.

Sara passed over a set of keys.

It took all three of them to help ease Oliver down to the ground. Diggle unlocked the manacles around his wrists while Sara carefully eased his arms down, not wanting to strain them with the sudden movement. All the while, Roy gently supported his weak body and lowered him to the floor.

And yet, despite all of his injuries, Oliver was numb. He was keenly aware that he was lying on his side in his own blood that had spilled on the cool concrete floor. He heard the rough, concerned voices of his friends. But he felt nothing.

"No matter how many people die around you, you still live on."

The bloody figures of his fallen friends stood in front of him, looking at him with distaste.

And he knew that, though his friends had come for him, he was far from being rescued.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading and for all of the subscriptions, bookmarks and kind reviews.**


	7. Hide Your Fires

**A/N: I'm working on the last chapter! There will be 10 in total, so the end is nigh. I currently have plans for a sequel and a couple of related one-shots. On that note, enjoy the next chapter!**

* * *

"_Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires."_  
- William Shakespeare

Felicity paced the hospital hallway, gnawing at her fingernails. John and Sara sat in the uncomfortable plastic chairs along the wall. It had been hours since Oliver had passed out in the warehouse, and there was still no word from the doctor.

"Slade?" she asked the two of them.

"No sign of him. The police showed up to collect all of Slade's buddies, but there was no sign of the bastard behind all of this."

"So we save Oliver from that hell, and Slade could just come back here and take him right back?"

Sara set her shoulders defiantly. "Not if we have any say in the matter."

"How did he seem after you did the heroic rescue thing?" Felicity asked, wringing her hands anxiously. "Did he seem…okay?"

John didn't look up from his shoes. "He's been through hell. There was so much blood, so many bruises."

They turned their heads in unison at the sound of heels approaching quickly. Thea and Moira rushed into the hallway, with Roy following behind them.

"Any word yet?"

Felicity shook her head and resumed pacing. Thea linked arms with her and paced alongside her.

"I don't know what you did or how you found him," the young girl said in a low voice, "but thank you."

Felicity ducked her head. "I didn't do that much."

"Don't be modest. Roy doesn't tell me much. Well, he tells me pretty much nothing, but he admires you."

Felicity wanted to find out just how much she knew, but she was interrupted when the doctor came out.

"Family of Oliver Queen?"

"That's us," Thea replied quickly, her grip on Felicity's arm growing tighter.

"Oliver is hanging in there," the doctor said. "He's suffering from malnutrition, fatigue and severe muscle strains, as well as lacerations, electrical burns, three broken ribs and a four broken fingers on his right hand."

Felicity exchanged dark looks with John and Sara. Depending on the damage, Oliver may never shoot a bow again.

The doctor continued on. "There are signs that Oliver was tortured. He is unconscious at this time, so we would like to keep him here for at least a few days to continue with the IV drip and ensure that his wounds aren't infected."

Moira looked shaken as she replied, "Of course. Thank you, doctor. Can we see him?"

"He most likely won't be waking up for a while, but we would like to limit you to one or two visitors for now. He is in room 412."

He left them alone, and Thea and Moira rushed toward his room.

Felicity sunk onto a seat beside Sara, suddenly feeling those days of sleep that she had skipped this week. Sara gently pulled her into a gentle embrace.

"Maybe you should go to sleep, Felicity," she said. "You've been running on empty for days."

"No," she replied quickly. "I have to see him. I have to make sure he's okay. He has to be okay."

"What will happen if he can't shoot a bow?" John said, his voice quiet. "It'll kill him."

"We'll be there for him," Sara said, while Felicity sighed.

* * *

"He's waking up. You should go in. He'll want to see you."

Felicity jumped at Moira's voice floating down the hall. She had fallen asleep against John's shoulder while waiting for the doctor to come out.

"Are you sure? I'm sure he'll want you to be there when he wakes up."

"I'm going to speak with the doctor to arrange a better room for him so that we'll all be able to see him."

"Go ahead," John said, squeezing Felicity's hand encouragingly. With tight smiles of gratitude, Sara and Felicity walked arm in arm to Oliver's room.

At seeing them enter, Thea jumped up. "Ollie, look who's here to see you. Aren't you the ladies' man?"

Felicity looked from Thea to Oliver, who was lying on his side with his back to the door. She could see bandages along his back and sides. She looked over at Thea, who shook her head.

"He's awake," the youngest Queen muttered to them.

"Leave," Oliver said, his voice quiet.

Felicity wrung her hands together in fear. "Oliver."

"_Please_ _leave._"

"Ollie—"

"I SAID LEAVE."

The three women jumped at his sudden harshness. He rolled over onto his back to face them, his expression filled with venom.

"Oliver, you're hurting yourself," Felicity pleaded, reaching out to him. Her fingers brushed his shoulder, but he flinched violently as if she had struck him.

"Please, leave. Don't visit me again. Stay away from me." His voice was weak and desperate, hoarse from having spent days on end screaming in pain.

Felicity looked up at Sara, who was hiding her hurt better than she probably was. She inched out of the room.

"He's a fucking idiot," Thea said quietly, looping her arm in Felicity's as they walk morosely down the hallway.

The IT girl sighed. They may have found Oliver, but this was far from over.

* * *

Not here. Not real. How could he be rescued and still feel so trapped? How could Felicity's ghost still haunt him?

He had nearly felt her skin ghost over his skin. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to feel her gentle touch again, but the confirmation that she wasn't actually there would kill him.

"You're not going through this alone, Oliver."

He shouldn't have been surprised that she hadn't listened to him.

"Did you kill Slade?"

Sara shook her head sadly.

"Good. I want to be the one to kill him."

Her hand hovered over him, as if struggling to find some patch of skin that was untarnished.

"Wherever I go, there's nothing left but destruction," he said after a long pause.

When Sara replied, she sounded tired. "But you're still here. Stronger, unbroken."

"Am I though?" he snapped bitterly. "I don't feel very strong. And I'm pretty damn broken right now."

"You survived."

"I wish I hadn't."

She recoiled physically at those words. "Don't say that."

He stared back, challengingly. He didn't apologize.

"We're warriors, Ollie. This is what the island made us."

"Well, I'm tired of it."

"I know," she said, sounding resigned. "I think, at the time, two warriors banding together seemed like a good idea, our own army."

"Us against the world."

"But it's not what you need. There's too much darkness between us. Too much…"

"Too much bullshit."

She smiled sadly. "That, too. I wish I could make it better."

"But you can't."

"No one can. I love you, Ollie, but we both know we can't keep up what we've been doing. You need light again. You deserve peace."

Oliver looked away. He didn't deserve anything. He couldn't bring anyone else down with him, and he had known that she would understand, even if he was too cowardly to broach the subject himself..

"Did she suffer?" he asked after some hesitation.

"Who?"

"Felicity."

"She's on the good stuff now. Digg has been secretly dosing her with Vicodin since we found you. She's been running on fumes for days."

Oliver furrowed his brow. "That's not possible. Slade said he killed her."

"He lied. Either he didn't want her dead, or the cop on his payroll was a really bad shot. It's just a graze."

Oliver let out a shaky breath of relief. He was only slightly ashamed as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

Sara reached out and gave his uninjured hand a gentle, comforting squeeze. It was the first kind contact he had received since passing out in that godforsaken warehouse, and he found himself thirsting for more.

* * *

**A/N2: ****Also, in my head, and I hope that it was clear in my writing, Oliver and Sara (while I do like them together on show, as dysfunctional and unhealthy as they are together) have officially broken up in my story. The Olicity reunion is coming up in the next chapter, which will be posted in a couple of days!**

**Thank you again for all of the wonderful reviews, subscriptions, etc. I live and breathe for them.**


	8. Feel No Light

"_Darkness approaches from outside.  
I feel no light inside me strong enough to resist it."  
_- Christopher Pike

"Sara said you wanted to see me."

Oliver had been staring at his hand, his useless, bandaged hand but looked up when Felicity entered the room. He hungrily took in the sight of her, looking frazzled and tired but whole and alive.

He reached out with his undamaged hand, and she seemed to understand his wordless request, moving closer to him. He reached out to her and rested his hand on her face. Her skin was soft, just as he remembered it being. He could smell the sweet scent of her shampoo, and suddenly, the floodgates burst.

He cried in earnest, feeling the weight of the past week heavy in his bones. His shoulders shook with sobs, but it was different from when he had lost it in the warehouse, trapped and hopeless. Now, he felt her gentle touch. He felt relief. He felt hope.

"Slade said he killed you."

He saw her eyes widen in horror and understanding.

"Oh, Oliver," she whispered sadly, taking his hand in hers and moving closer. "It's okay. I'm here. I'm okay. You're going to be okay."

She stayed next to him, gently massaging his hand in hers, running her hand through his hair until his sobs subsided.

As his mind cleared, he suddenly felt self-conscious. He tried to pull his hand away, but she held fast.

"You're not getting away from me that easily," she joked, smiling gently. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"How do you feel? Should I get your doctor?"

He shook his head. "Tired."

She gave his hand a squeeze, lowering it to his side but not letting go. "It's okay. Sleep."

"Stay?" He hated the pleading tone in his voice, but he was too tired to try to take it back.

"Of course."

As he drifted to sleep, he felt her place a gentle kiss on his forehead.

* * *

Several days had passed since Oliver had first awoken. Felicity was at his side constantly, fretting and harassing nurses.

"Sara and Roy are keeping up appearances for now, doing the Arrow's work," Felicity said, smoothing the blankets.

Oliver didn't respond. He did as he had been doing the past couple of days and staring absently at the wall, eyes unseeing. He moved robotically when asked directly, but there was no life in his eyes.

"Catatonia is an extremely rare, but still valid symptom of post-traumatic stress disorder," the doctor had explained. "Most patients emerge from this state on their own, but if he has not recovered in the next few days, we'll need to discuss treatments to help the process along."

After their first interaction, Felicity had hoped that they would be able to heal and put the whole ordeal behind them. But with Oliver no longer responding and no one knowing exactly what he had been through, healing seemed to be an impossible task.

"John and Moira have been working together to keep the Queen Consolidated running," Felicity told Oliver. "I think your mom was surprised at how much he knew about the company since he's only your 'black driver,' but luckily, even Isabel didn't have the nerve to try to steal the company away while you were…dead." She winced at her own words, the reminder that, at one point, they all thought he had been gone.

She had been coming in every day, talking to Oliver, making sure he knew what was going on with his friends and family, praying that he would emerge from his stupor.

"Felicity, you should go home."

She jumped at the new voice. She hadn't heard Sara come in.

"Maybe in a little bit."

"You said that two days ago."

"I'm fine."

Sara expression was filled with a mix of understanding, sadness and pity. Felicity hated the look.

"When was the last time you slept?"

"The nurses brought me a bed." Felicity gestured to a cot in the corner of the private room they were in.

"Go home. I'll stay with him for a while."

She glanced at Oliver, who hadn't reacted to either woman's presence. Despite her trepidations, she knew that Sara must want time alone with him, so she left.

She made it halfway down the hall before she ran into another familiar face.

"Laurel."

The other Lance sister stopped. "You're Oliver's friend, right? Felicia?"

"Felicity," she corrected. "How are you doing, Laurel?"

"Well, my ex-boyfriend, who is also my dead ex-boyfriend's best friend, who is also my sister's ex-boyfriend, died. Again. And has come back to life. Again. So I'm doing as well as can be expected."

"Ex-boyfriend?" Felicity was surprised.

"To which ex are you referring?" Laurel said snippily.

"I wasn't aware that Sara and Oliver broke up."

"Apparently, it was mutual."

Felicity could see the devastation in her eyes and knew that Laurel's snippiness was a façade.

"It's okay to be upset with everything," she said, reaching out to rest a hand on her arm. "He's going to be okay, but you've been through a lot over the past few years."

Laurel smiled sadly. "I've come to terms with the fact that Oliver and I weren't meant to be. I just want him to be happy, but I don't know how he can be. He's been through so much."

Felicity knew the feeling.

"I'm sorry for unloading all of this on you. I don't even know you…"

"Its okay," Felicity replied quickly. "He wouldn't want you to carry the burden by yourself. Sarah is with Oliver now, but he's not really good company right now. He's…brooding, or whatever it is he's doing."

"You're a good friend to Oliver," Laurel said.

"I'm here for you, too. If you need me…Not that you need me when you can talk to your sister or whatever, but just in case."

"Thank you."

Felicity watched Laurel walk down the hallway, pondering their conversation. Oliver and Sara had broken up. She had interacted with Sara several times in the past few days and hadn't noticed a difference. What kind of friend was she?

She sighed and ran her fingers anxiously through her hair. She needed sleep.

* * *

Voices. Noises. Everything blurred together. Everything was numb. He knew Felicity had been at his side nearly nonstop, and he felt warmth blossom across his skin every time she touched him.

But she had gone. At one point, he heard them mention a schedule to keep someone by his side.

"Poor girl has been running herself into the ground," he heard Digg say. "If your mother weren't running QC and looking out for her, I'd be worried that she'd lose her job."

He blinked. No, he couldn't cause Felicity more pain. He blinked again.

"Oliver?" Digg was at his side immediately. "Can you hear me?"

"Digg." He blinked again, feeling the light pierce his eyes and the sudden waves of aches and pains.

"Welcome back to the land of the living. How are you feeling?"

"Like shit."

Digg laughed. "Still an improvement on how you've been doing the past few days."

"Thanks for being here."

His partner waved him off. "It hasn't been just me. Felicity, your family, Sara, Roy and even Laurel have all been here, too."

"I know. I just…appreciate it."

"You'd better."

They exchanged tired smiles. John reached over and pressed the call button. When the doctor came in, he stood and pulled out his phone.

"I'm going to call the cavalry and let them know Sleeping Beauty has woken."

"I'll be here," Oliver said, trying to ignore the nurse poking and prodding at him.

"Your response to the trauma you have been through the past week was to shut down," the doctor explained to him, as if he didn't already know. "I am going to recommend you to a therapist who has experience dealing with PTSD so you can develop healthier means of dealing with what you have been through."

Oliver resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He saw John step in as the doctor was leaving.

"That man needs to work on his bedside manner," Oliver said with a sigh.

"He's just telling you what you need to hear."

"What I already know. I shut down, not because I couldn't deal, but because it was my way of escaping. I felt safe for the first time since Slade attacked, so I just…turned everything off, since I'm not in any shape to run back to Lian Yu. It was the only way I could escape the ghosts."

"Well, you really had us all worried. Find better ways to deal."

Oliver smiled sadly. "I'll work on it."


	9. A Gift

"_Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift."_  
- Mary Oliver

Several days after emerging from catatonia, Oliver finally got the okay to go home. The wounds on his back and the raw skin of his wrists were healing. The ghosts that had haunted him were now only shadows in his peripherals.

But his nightmares would not leave him alone. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Tommy, Shado and all of those he had failed to save as the vigilante. He saw the dead bodies of everyone dear to him, Thea, Felicity, John, Sara. In his dreams, he felt the cracks of the whip against his back, the suffocation, the electrical shocks, and knew that every abuse was his own fault. Instead of Slade inflicting the pain, it was himself holding the picana, breaking his fingers, swinging the whip.

He would wake up every night after a few short hours of rest, shaking and sweating. He couldn't go out and be the hero to the city, with his useless hand and the weight of his failures.

"Have you spoken to your therapist?" his mother asked quietly. "You look tired."

He had taken to living at home after being released from the hospital, where Raisa made him food and helped him change his bandages.

Perched on a stool at the kitchen counter, Oliver didn't look up from the breakfast he had been picking at.

"I'm fine."

She looked at him with sadness and pity in her eyes. "Oliver."

She reached out for him, and he flinched away violently. "Please don't, Mom."

He got up and left abruptly. He could hear her sobs as he walked brusquely out the front door.

* * *

Oliver pulled up to the remains of Verdant, but he wasn't the first one there.

He parked the car next to Felicity's mini cooper. She was standing at the edge of the ruins, and he walked up to her carefully.

"You didn't bring your motorcycle."

"Kind of hard with a broken hand," he said ruefully. He saw her falter, opening her mouth to apologize, so he cut her off. "It's okay. I just want you to thank you."

"Why? What's there to thank me for?"

"Well, according to Sara and John and Roy, all on separate occasions, I have you to thank for my rescue."

She wouldn't look him in the eye. "I still feel like I failed you," she muttered quietly.

He almost hadn't heard her.

"Hey." He reached out with his good hand and brushed her soft skin. "You didn't fail. If it weren't for you, I'd still be there, or I'd be dead."

"But you're still there, aren't you?"

Ah, she always knew what was on his mind. She always knew his ghosts, and she stood by his side despite it all.

"I wish I wasn't," he said after a pause. He never could lie to her. He dropped his hand to his side with a heavy sigh.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

He stopped and really looked at her, drinking in the sight of her after thinking he wouldn't see her for so long. She looked more tired than he had ever seen her before.

"Are you okay, Felicity? I haven't seen you since…"

She stopped visiting his bedside after he had emerged from whatever state he had been in.

"It's been tough," she said

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She smiled at him. "Only if you do."

He thought about it for a minute, staring at the ruins, wondering how he could possibly rebuild from here.

"I thought you were dead," he said after a while. "I thought you were dead, and I gave up. I wanted to die."

She looked distressed, and he regretted his words.

"I thought you were dead, too," she replied, her voice cracking. "When the bomb went off, I believed what the police were saying. I wasted so much time, thinking you were dead, instead of looking for you."

"It's okay to feel the way you do. You can tell me about it. It might help to tell me everything you went through. It might help me understand, too," he said.

"Will you tell me everything?"

"I can't do that to you," he said.

"Yes, you can," she said, reaching out to him. "You can't sleep. I can't sleep. Maybe if we tell each other, we can heal. And sleep. I miss sleep, you know, the nice dreams and the not feeling like my head is going to explode."

"Maybe you could go to a therapist," he suggested, not putting a whole lot of emotion into his words.

"You could, too."

He gave a bitter bark of a laugh. "And what would I say? I was kidnapped and tortured by a man that I thought I had murdered. I spent five years on an island, learning how to be an expert archer, fighting off terrorists and discovering long lost Japanese miracle drugs. Oh, and also, I'm the Starling City vigilante."

She laughed, too. "I suppose that wouldn't go too well. I guess I'd say something along the lines that I was nearly killed by a bomb, thought my best friend and boss, who happen to be the same person, was dead, and while trying to find the killer, found out he wasn't dead, but that I wasted time chasing false leads. And then I got shot. Only a little bit."

"We'd both be committed."

"Definitely."

They lapsed back into silence.

"Why did you stop visiting me in the hospital?" He felt pathetic for asking, after she had dedicated the previous week to saving him.

"I'm sorry," she said, too quickly. "I shouldn't have—I was scared."

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up. You spent every day by my bedside before. I heard you talking to me, telling me everything that was going on. And I appreciated it. Even if I wasn't all there, I knew that you were there for me." He reached out and took her hand in his. "It's okay. I'm sorry that I scared you, but you didn't fail me. I don't want you to hurt yourself anymore. You saved me. You saved me from Slade, and you saved me from myself."

Throwing caution to the wind, he pulled her close to him. "You're saving me right now."

He kissed the top of her head.

"Want to come over?" she asked. "We can talk and…"

"Are you trying to get me into bed with you, Miss Smoak?"

"I don't know. Are you bed-able?"

They ended up going to her house and drinking wine. She showed him Doctor Who, Firefly and other shows that she watched when she couldn't sleep. They talked. He told her everything, despite his trepidations.

And then they fell asleep, his arms wrapped around her as they lay on the couch. It was the best sleep either of them had gotten in weeks, possibly months, possibly years.


	10. Defy and Define

**A/N: Happy Arrow Day! Here's the last chapter! Thank you for the love and support you've given this story! It has meant the world to me.**

* * *

"Look at how a single candle can both defy and define the darkness."  
― Anne Frank

Felicity woke up the next morning feeling more refreshed than she had felt in weeks. Her neck hurt from the angle she was laying at, but her mind was sharp and relieved of the tired haze it had been in lately.

She rolled over and fell off the couch with an small "oomph."

Looking up from where she fell, she watched Oliver stir. She suddenly remembered the events from the previous night and smiled.

"Morning, sunshine," she chirped. He cracked an eye open and smiled back.

"Morning."

"How are you feeling today?"

He groaned. "Sore."

"Did you bring the muscle relaxants the doctor gave you?"

He nodded and pulled the orange bottle out of his pocket. Felicity disappeared into the kitchen, reemerging with a glass of water.

"I also threw some Eggos into the toaster oven. That's about as far as my cooking skills go."

He gratefully took the water and took his medication without complaint.

"Should we talk about last night?" she asked. "I mean, not that anything happened. We just slept together. Just sleeping, sleep together. Not you know…_sex._"

He smiled. "Thank you for being here for me."

"Any time," she said with a smile. "Really. Once upon a time, you told me I could tell you what happens in my day. I want you to come to me for anything, you know like bad break ups?"

"Did Sara tell you about that?"

"Laurel did, actually." She laughed at the look Oliver gave her. "She's nice."

"Sara ended it. Kind of," he said after a moment. "We both knew for a while that it wasn't right. I care about her, and we worked well together sometimes, but there was too much history."

"You deserve to be happy."

"I don't know what I deserve."

Her heart went out to him. It hurt her to think that he was filled with so much doubt. He had told her what he had endured at Slade's hand, and it pained her to think that the stupid one-eyed bastard could still win.

"Don't let him win, Oliver," she implored.

"He's still out there," he said. "He could come back and ruin everything, and I'm still broken. How can I fight him?"

"By being strong. By finding yourself again. I believe in you Oliver. You just have to believe in yourself."

Maybe she had been reading too many girly magazines over the years, but her heart broke thinking that he was denying himself happiness, that he thought himself beyond salvation.

"I can't be the one to fix you, Oliver." She reached out and ran a gentle hand through his hair.

He flinched back, his expression hurt. She could only imagine what could be racing through his head at this moment, so she hurried to amend herself.

"I'll be here. I'll be by your side, fighting for you," she said, "but I need you to want to be better. Not for me, but for yourself. You are such a strong fighter, Oliver. You put everyone's needs above your own. You worry about my safety and my health, but I want you to be selfish and think about yourself for once."

She reached out and rested her hand on his cheek as he had done to her so many times before. He leaned into her touch with a slight smile and a hint of hope in his eyes.

* * *

The results weren't as instantaneous as he had hoped they would be.

It had been weeks since his release from the hospital. The club was being rebuilt. His life was being rebuilt.

Felicity drove him to physical therapy sessions for his hand and his strained muscles. The doctor promised full range of motion back, but now, it just hurt and made him feel useless.

Instead of forcing Oliver to talk to a stranger, Felicity sat with him every night in her living room. They would talk, like they had before. He told her more than he had ever hoped to tell anyone about his time on the island, about his darkness, but he went home at the end of the night feeling a little lighter, like a burden he had been carrying for years was finally being lifted.

He resolved himself to build himself stronger and prepared for when Slade came back. He wouldn't let him win.

That included being able to lift his bow again.

"What did that water ever do to you?"

He jumped at the sound of Felicity's voice. He had taken to training his left hand in case his right hand didn't heal fully and had begun with the basics the way Shado had taught him. So he sat in Felicity's kitchen with a bowl of water and an aching left arm.

"It's a strength-building exercise Shado taught me back on the island."

"Did she also teach you how to wax cars and paint fences?"

She smiled cheekily at him as she set her laptop on the kitchen counter, and he couldn't help smiling back.

"I skipped those days of class." He stopped and wiped off his hand on his jeans. "If my right hand is going to act up for the rest of my life, I'm going to have to get used to drawing with my other hand."

"Does it work that easily?"

"It's going to have to," he said darkly, trying to push down the negative emotions. He looked at her, and instead said, "I'm worried that if I don't heal, if I'm not strong enough, I won't be able to save you when Slade comes back."

It was an old argument by now. Instead of arguing with him, she did as she had recently and just listened. He was learning to talk to her, instead of burying himself in his emotions. She had a way of just _looking_ at him and making him want to tell her everything, the way she had since the first time he had met her.

"I know what you're thinking," he continued, "_it's not my responsibility to save everyone_. But it's my fault that he's here and coming after us. _It's not your fault he's crazy, Oliver_. But it's my fault he's here. If it weren't for me, you'd be safe."

"You're getting better at the whole sharing your feelings thing, but your impression of me needs a little work."

"Have you been reading How to be a Therapist for Dummies?"

"No, but I know you. What I say will hardly change your mind. But I can get you to listen to yourself and realize how full of yourself you sound. You're not alone in all of this. You can't take all of the credit in this. The world does not revolve around you."

"I think there's something comforting in there somewhere," he quipped.

"Make me stronger, so that I can protect myself from Slade. So that I can help."

"You won't be a match for him, no matter how hard you train or how strong you get."

He didn't mean for his words to sound harsh or condescending, but she looked at him with that understanding in her eyes that he was so used to seeing from her and her alone.

"Neither will you. Not without your team. There's no way you can take him on alone."

He knew it was true, but he couldn't stop the pangs of fear that rushed through him at the thought.

"You need to stop being right all the time," he said dryly.

"I'm female. It's in my genetic code to tell men when they're being idiots."

He walked heavily over to her and pulled her into a tight hug. "You are a godsend, Felicity Smoak. You are a ray of sunshine in my dark world, and I'm afraid that I'll ruin it."

"A wise man once said, 'Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.'"

"Gandalf?"

"Dumbledore. The movie one, so it doesn't really count in real life. But it seems appropriate at this moment in time. But guess who has two thumbs and an unending supply of light? This girl."

She pointed to herself dramatically with her thumbs.

He chuckled and kissed her on the forehead, a motion that had become familiar over the past few days. Not for the first time in the past week, he found himself yearning for more.

"I want to be there for you. I want to be worthy of you," he mumbled into her hair.

She reached up and pulled his face toward her. "Oliver, you are the bravest, strongest man I have ever met. Any other man would give up after what you have been through, but you're still fighting. You're still here, and there's never been anyone more deserving of happiness than you."

She leaned in to kiss him then, standing on her tiptoes to reach him. Her lips were warm and soft the way he had been imagining them to be since he first met her at Queen Consolidated. She tasted like peppermint gum and smelled like flowers and strawberries.

He pulled her closer, wrapping his fingers in her hair, and they only parted to breathe heavily.

"Thank you, Felicity."

"Any time. And this time I really, _really_ mean any time."

He laughed. Really laughed.

He felt free and when he looked up, there were no dark corners and there were no ghosts haunting him.

"Alright," he said. "Come on. I'm going to teach you to shoot a bow."

"Do I get to slap water?" she asked excitedly.

He may not be fixed yet, but he was more whole than he had been in a long time. And with his team, with Felicity by his side, he felt stronger than he ever had before.

* * *

**A/N2:****The end (for now)!**

**The sequel is going to take a little more time because I had a good idea for it, but then read a fic that did my idea better than I had planned it, so there's that. I'm going to rework my ideas and work on a few other fic ideas in the meantime.**

**Thanks for all of the love and see you all around on the next one. (Assuming we all survive tonight's episode.) :)**


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